


Love Meant

by spearmintgreen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Don't Read This, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light BDSM, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Sock Puppets, i wrote this after drinking like five coffees, plastic horse head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 15:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15270957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spearmintgreen/pseuds/spearmintgreen
Summary: This takes place after my other fic Abraxas Mafoy's Bad Day so please read that first.Dobby finds himself in a downward spiral and Things Happen.





	Love Meant

Dobby wondered when everything had gone wrong. He wondered when he’d started to lose control - to drown his sorrows with a bottle of vodka and the wizarding equivalent of cocaine.

  


Perhaps it could be traced back to the moment he’d seen Voldy- **NO** he couldn’t use that pet name anymore-Voldemort fucking Bellatrix Lestrange. He’d always known that whatever it was between them couldn’t last, and he’d seen that batshit crazy lady’s attraction for his master get wilder and bolder over time. Still, deep down in his heart he’d held onto the hope that maybe he wasn’t just being idealistic, and that Voldemort  _ wouldn’t  _ cheat. (Though he wasn’t even sure if it was cheating since theirs was more of a servant-and-master-with-benefits kinda situation.)

  


Maybe it could even be traced back to before then. After all, that had just confirmed suspicions Dobby’d already been carrying around in his tiny heart. Maybe it stemmed from something else. Something darker. Something that had been festering since the moment Dobby had laid eyes on Voldemort.

  


He had an obsession.

  


It was unhealthy, he knew. It was, frankly, dangerous. But he couldn’t stop himself. The first time Voldemort had touched him he’d known that there would be no way he could ever recover from this all-consuming passion.

  


Dobby took a long swig from the dark blue bottle floating precariously in midair. It was his second in as many hours. In his defense, it was only Muggle wine this time, and not even particularly good wine at that.

  


Voldemort was upstairs with Bellatrix at the moment, the slamming of their bed against the wall loud enough to make it through even Dobby’s strongest silencing wards. He’d probably have to fix the dents in the wall again when they were done. Fucking figured. 

  


Dobby swilled down another gulp of wine as he remembered how they’d once asked him to join them. His response had been to set Bellatrix’s hair on fire. Now  _ that  _ had gotten him a beating (not that he hadn’t enjoyed it, but still.)

  


The Muggle gun he kept on him at all times weighed heavily in his makeshift pillowcase toga. There were days when he wanted to go on a killing spree and show Voldemort that he could be murderous and deadly, too.

  


A loud whooping yell, followed by a smacking sound, burst through the silencing wards. Dobby’s concentration on keeping the wine bottle aloft faltered, and it crashed to the ground with a smash. He stared at it for a moment.

  


Then Dobby saw red. “That’s it, you evil fucker!” With a snap, he apparated upstairs.

  


The sight that greeted him burned itself into the deepest recesses of his brain for all eternity. 

  


Because there was Voldemort. His past lover. His dark lord. There was Voldemort wearing a plastic horse head and nothing else, in the middle of impassioned sex with Bellatrix Lestrange. “Ride me, Bella! Ride me!” he crooned.

  


“Yes, my horse lord!” Bellatrix screeched as she bounced up and down on Voldemort’s long, throbbing length. (Wow, had it always been  _ so _ pale, Dobby wondered? That probably wasn’t normal.) 

  


“Yes!” Bellatrix screamed, somehow even louder this time. Voldemort was somehow managing to suck her nipple through the horse head. A pale hand crept around and pinched her ass. Bellatrix strained against the magical bonds that kept her hands pinned behind her. 

  


Dobby had never wanted to die more than he did in this moment.

  


They still hadn’t noticed him. “Oh, my beautiful mare, your magnificent pussy is so tight! This would be perfect if only you also had a horse head to wear,” Voldemort said, slightly muffled by the combination of the horse head and Bellatrix’s nipple. His frenzied thrusting increased in speed as he said this, as though even the thought turned him on.

  


“Ohhh yes, right there!” was the breathy moan Bellatrix released as Voldemort reached a hand between them to rub her clit. 

  


Dobby felt enraged. Voldemort had never been quite so enthusiastic with  _ him.  _ Nevermind the weird horse head kink. He pulled out the gun, his small, fragile, oddly-wrinkled hands struggling with the weight of it.  

It was loaded, of course. As it always was. You never knew when you might need to just fuck someone’s shit up.

  


Using his house elf magic, Dobby levitated the gun in the air and aimed it at the couple, keeping three fingers wrapped loosely around the trigger. “Aight, bitch, I’m gonna need you to move the fuck along. You’ve been messin’ around with my mans for too long now,” he proclaimed.

  


Both Bellatrix and Voldemort jolted at the sudden interruption, the horse mask bouncing with the movement. Bellatrix opened her mouth to say something, but Dobby cut her off.

  


“Nah, what you ain’t gonna do is try to start shit with me.” He took this moment to nod at the gun. “Try me. I’ll shoot you in that goddamn annoying mouth of yours if you don’t shut the hell up.”

  


In an impressive display of wandless, nonverbal magic, Voldemort flicked his wrist and his wand came soaring to his hand. Dobby shifted the gun to aim directly at his head. “Dob, you need to calm down.” The sound of the nickname on Voldemort’s tongue brought on a wave of stinging, angry tears. 

  


“No! I’m gonna blow your fucking head off and-”

  


Voldemort raised his free hand in a placating gesture. “Shhh, let me just,” he awkwardly pushed on Bellatrix’s shoulder, “let me-hey, can you get off of me?” The wild-haired woman muttered something about  _ wishing  _ she could get off, but complied without any real protest.

  


She stood next to the bed, her acceptable enough features distorting to show her discomfort. “So do I just like, stand here?” Her shoulders shifted as she tugged against her bonds.

  


Voldemort snapped his fingers and Bellatrix zoomed backwards into a nearby wardrobe. The look of surprise on her face was the last Dobby saw of her as the doors to the wardrobe slammed shut.

  


Dobby turned back to the object of his affections. “Take off the horse head. I need to look into your eyes.”

  


Voldemort rolled off the bed in a sexy way. He struck a pose as he landed on the floor. He quite obviously still had an erection. Dobby had to remain strong in the face of such seductiveness.

  


With a long, drawn out motion, Voldemort pulled off the plastic horse head. It landed in a crumpled heap on the ground. The look in Voldemort’s eyes set Dobby’s heart on fire. He could barely resist the temptation to run over and let Voldemort do wicked things to him.

  


“There. What do you have to say to me now?” Voldemort asked. He looked confident and beautiful, despite that he had a bit of a belly and could probably stand to work out once in a while.

  


Dobby studied him for a moment, before giving an eloquent, thought-out response. “Get fucked.” 

  


He fired the gun.

  


It was as though time had stopped.

  


Dobby could feel himself careening backwards from the force of the kickback. He watched as a bright blue shield burst forth from Voldemort’s wand. It spread, inch by inch. 

  


Would the bullet be faster? Dobby felt oddly detached now.

  


Time resumed its normal flow. A loud gong sounded from the bullet striking the shield. Dobby toppled over into the wall.

  


Voldemort was shaking in fury. He raised his wand, red and yellow sparks flying out of the end due to the force of his anger. Mmm, what a hunk, thought Dobby.

  


“I thought you loved me!” Voldemort shouted. “You told me that I had the finest ass you’d ever seen! I can’t believe I trusted you enough to show you my sock puppet collection.”

  


Dobby coughed. Damn this room was dusty. “It was a shitty collection anyway. You only had three sock puppets! That’s not a collection.”

  


“I only needed three! Two for my hands and one for my dick! The perfect amount for a fun performance.”

  


“They were ugly as hell and your acting was terrible,” said Dobby with a cruel laugh.

  


“How dare you! I was nominated ‘Most Likely to be a Famous Actor’ for my performance in The Little Mermaid! I was a very convincing Sebastian!  _ Avada ke- _ ”

  


At that moment, a new voice interjected, “You have angered the ancient gods.”

  


Voldemort and Dobby both flinched in surprise. They whipped around trying to find the source.

  


It spoke again, this time the thick southern accent was clear. “Yer love was ter be a tale that rewrote even the destinies of the furthest stars. But look at where y’all are now. Sadly, I have to destroy ya both.” That was when Dobby looked down.

  


It was THE HORSE HEAD!!! 

  


It’s cold, malevolent eyes seemed to glow with unspeakable evil. The whole plastic mask gave off a powerful energy. Dobby didn’t like it.

  


“Save me, Voldy!” he cried. Voldemort sprung into action, moving as fast as he could to his fallen lover. 

  


“I’m coming, Dob!” Alas! he tripped over the forgotten gun, sprawling mere inches away from Dobby. 

  


“I’m afraid this is the end. Say yer goodbyes.” The horse head’s eyes lit up with a bright red light that cast a glow over the whole room.

  


“I love you, Voldy! I’m sorry I tried to shoot a hole in your sexy face,” Dobby sobbed. He wished he could do a final line of cocaine. Dobby reached out to stroke the beautiful shining baldness of Voldemort’s egg-like head.

  


“I cared for you more than anything else in this world aside from my sock puppets,” came Voldemort’s dramatic confession. Dobby gasped.

  


“Okay, that’s enough,” the horse head interrupted, looking annoyed. “Farewell, pardners!! Yeeeeeehawwww!”

  


A blaze of red engulfed the room.

  
Dobby closed his eyes, and then he was no more.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a friend (Sean this is a callout) because he was so enamored with the first fic that the lack of knowing how Voldemort and Dobby's incredible love story continued was tearing him apart. He also requested the horse head bit.


End file.
